


Vesemir’s little demon

by embeer2004



Category: Disenchantment (TV 2018), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Banter, Caring, Comfort, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Injury Recovery, Kaer Morhen, Protectiveness, Rescue, Some angst, aftermath of the attack on, gigglebud and whitegull cocktails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004
Summary: Eskel is the first to return after the attack on Kaer Morhen. He finds Vesemir lying buried beneath some rubble and meets Vesemir’s personal demon for the first time.Chp4Geralt arrives at Kaer Morhen one month after the attack and discovers for himself just how much has changed.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 42





	1. Eskel

**Author's Note:**

> You don’t need to know Disenchantment to understand this story – I just borrowed one character that I really loved to place in the Witcher universe…

“You need to live, you hear me? Can't be your personal demon if there's no _you_.”  
  
Eskel could hear the unfamiliar lowly rumbling voice even before he’d crossed over the drawbridge. The dried-up moat beneath it was filled with bodies, no sounds of life coming from any of them and he _did not want to see_ the signs the attack had left behind.  
  
But he had to. He needed to know…  
  
“And I’m _not_ heading down back there before my task is done,” the voice continued.  
  
Eskel felt focused and dazed both at once. Like someone was pushing him into the ground and was blowing cold wind right in his face. He honed in on the voice, his hand automatically going for his steel sword. When he walked into the training yard he had to stop and close his eyes. The stench of ash and blood was stinging his nose and the bodies… so many bodies…  
  
“Hey, come on Vesemir, work with me. Got you some water,” the voice cajoled. “Some nice fresh water. Now drink it!” That sounded like helpless frustration.  
  
Eskel cocked his head, confused. Casting quen, he approached from the side, listening intently for any other sounds. It could be a trap. Focusing his hearing as much as he could, he gritted his teeth. He could only hear one heartbeat, much too fast for a witcher, and his hopes sagged.  
  
Passing an upturned wheelbarrow, Eskel stopped in his tracks. He blinked. Then he blinked again.  
  
Next to the rubble of a crumbled wall, a weird black cat stood on its hind legs. It didn’t look like any cat Eskel had seen before though: hairless and completely black, from its tiny clawed feet to its pointy ears. Even the two little fangs that peeked from its mouth were completely black. Yet, no matter the angle he tried, Eskel could only see one huge eye.  
  
The cat was holding what looked to be a water skin, pushing it into the rubble, but the moment it spotted Eskel it dropped the skin and turned around, scratching the air with its tiny claws. “Stay back!” It shrieked; its oddly pointed tail twitching in agitation.  
  
Eskel narrowed his eyes and recast his quen, just to be on the safe side.  
  
“Stay back!” The black cat hissed, spreading out its little forelegs and skittering a step backwards, acting as if its tiny body was able to block Eskel’s view of the figure behind it. A very familiar figure.  
  
The heartbeat Eskel was still focusing on didn’t change though, not even in the creature’s fright, and that’s when Eskel realised that the quick thumping didn’t come from the black cat, but from _behind_ it.  
  
So not a cat.  
  
And Vesemir was _alive_.  
  
A tentative relief washed over Eskel, and he quickly changed his steel sword for his silver one. “Step away from him,” he growled out threateningly.  
  
The small creature shivered once, but it shook its head. “Not gonna let you kill him.”  
  
Frowning, Eskel held his stance. “Not gonna kill him. Vesemir's a friend.”  
  
The creature’s eye narrowed in distrust and its tail curled up; pointy end directed towards Eskel. Eskel got the feeling that the creature _would_ try and stab him with it if he messed things up, and though he had no idea whether the creature actually could do him any harm he couldn’t risk it.  
  
It didn’t have a heartbeat; it was clearly spectral or demonic in origin…   
  
The creature took a step forwards, its tiny claws held out before it. Eskel readied himself to cast axii and command the creature away, but right at the same time as Eskel cast the sign, the air seemed to grow hotter and a dark shadow appeared, creeping towards him.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
The axii didn’t take hold.  
  
The shadow didn’t harm Eskel.  
  
The creature’s shoulders sagged and its head drooped as it took a step back again, trying to hide Vesemir’s face from sight. It looked so forlorn and dejected that Eskel started to believe it wanted to keep his old mentor safe from further harm.  
  
Sheathing his sword, Eskel hesitantly knelt down, letting his quen fade away. “Vesemir's injured. He needs help.”  
  
The way the creature puffed up made Eskel think that it _was_ a cat after all, perhaps a sìth? But it didn’t have a white spot on its chest… “I was _trying_ to help him before you interrupted.”  
  
Eskel nodded, remembering what he’d heard when entering the yard. Turning his head towards Vesemir, he felt his shoulders sagging. “Two are better than one… I don’t want Vesemir out here any longer than he needs to be.” He _was_ going to keep a close eye on the creature though…  
  
A pained grunt came from behind the creature. “Esss?” Vesemir trailed off, falling silent again.  
  
Perking up, Eskel tried to look around the black creature, but he couldn’t catch his mentor’s eyes. “Yeah it's me,” he told him, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible and not let his frustration creep out. “Gonna help you.”  
  
The small creature crossed its forelegs in front of itself, its eye turning slitted as it seemed to weigh a decision in its mind. Then it nodded. “Ok, seems like he knows you. I'm gonna let you get close. Don’t try anything funny.” It stepped to the side, finally allowing Eskel a view of Vesemir’s face.  
  
Eskel clenched his jaw and he looked the creature straight in the eye while he reached out an arm towards the rubble, keeping his movements slow so the creature could see what he was up to. “News of the attack reached me over a week ago. You the first one here?” He looked over the heavy debris covering Vesemir’s body. If he just moved that piece to the side first…  
  
The black creature scratched one of its pointy ears. “I guess. I’ve been here three days now.” It looked down and with its clawed foot it scratched over the ground. “Didn’t know how long he’d been here before…” It nodded at the yard, then reached behind its back and from out of nowhere it offered a crumpled piece of paper. “This level of destruction… we have special punishments back in hell for people that cause this.”  
  
Eskel took the piece of paper and scanned over it before the creature’s words actually _reached_ him. “Wait. _Hell?_ ”  
  
The creature’s eye turned large and its tail straightened out, pointing downwards. “Oops.”  
  
Automatically, Eskel reached for his silver sword again.  
  
The creature held out its claws, tiny palms facing Eskel. “Hey hey… Let's stay civilised. No reason to persecute me just because I'm a demon.”  
  
Eskel’s fingers twitched as he tried to suppress his first reactions. He so badly wanted to cast an aard or an igni right now, an yrden wouldn’t be bad either, but Vesemir was too close; he couldn’t risk hurting the injured witcher any further. “ _Demon?_ ”  
  
Wait, hadn’t it called itself Vesemir’s _personal demon_ before? Eskel didn’t know they could manifest to the earthly realm. Hadn’t known they were a real thing, actually. Perhaps it was after Vesemir’s soul after all. Sìth, demon… same result.  
  
The creature, no, _demon’s_ chest puffed up, and it was clearly proud as it pointed its tiny claw towards Vesemir. “Indeed I am. The name’s Luci, and I am _this one’s_ personal demon!”  
  
A wheezing gasp sounded from the rubble, making Eskel’s heart freeze up and his hands return to the heavy pieces of stonework lying on top of Vesemir.  
  
The demon, Luci, deflated, like a water skin with a punched hole, and, looking shiftily towards Eskel’s hands moving away one of the larger pieces, walked up to the unconscious witcher’s shoulder; its little arms held oddly in front of itself as it walked. “Stay still, you stubborn old fool. Esss is getting you out of here.” It patted Vesemir’s shoulder lightly before looking back at Eskel, a pleading look in its eye.  
  
Calming himself down and steeling himself for some more heavy lifting, Eskel grunted. “If you're a demon, don't you have special powers or something? Can you help me get him out safely?”  
  
A tiny growl sounded from the demon and it rolled its eye. “Oh yeah. Because if I did I totally would have left him lying underneath all this rubble for _three days_!” But it did come down towards where Eskel had cleared some of the larger slabs and started helping removing some smaller rocks. Luci sighed. “Sorry about that. I really tried to help him, but I don’t have those kinds of powers and while I’m pretty strong for my size it wasn’t enough to get him out.”  
  
Eskel nodded, a feeling inside him telling him he could perhaps trust the little demon. Geralt’s influence, no doubt. His eyes flitted towards the water skin. If Luci had been out for Vesemir’s soul it could have easily snuffed out Vesemir’s life and taken it for itself. Instead the little demon had been trying to keep Vesemir alive.  
  
“You know if there are others still alive?” Eskel asked, dreading the answer but needing to know all the same.  
  
Luci’s pointy ears drooped along with its tail and the demon sighed, scurrying over Vesemir’s body until it was on the witcher’s other side. It shook its head. “Just you and Vesemir,” it said, sounding honestly sad, “I’m sorry.”  
  
Blinking away a warm wetness that was suddenly stinging his eyes, Eskel ducked his head and examined Vesemir’s body. He nodded, satisfied at seeing all pieces of trapping rubble removed.  
  
Vesemir had bruises on his face and neck; no doubt Eskel would find more once his clothes were removed. There were some blood stains as well, but the most worrying one was the one just above Vesemir’s hip, with what looked to be the tine of a pitchfork still embedded in the flesh, and his left arm and leg were clearly broken. Add to that nearly two weeks of starvation and dehydration…  
  
The fact that Vesemir was still alive after all that had happened to him just proved how hardy their kind was. How hardy _this_ particular witcher was.  
  
“That’ll do,” Eskel told Luci, already moving to gently lift Vesemir into his arms and standing up. He nodded towards the keep’s main entrance. “I got some white raffard and swallow on me, but first we need to make sure his bones are set and there’s no stuff still sticking in his wounds.”  
  
Luci’s ears perked up. “You inviting me inside?”  
  
Eskel frowned, wondering if that old folk-tale had been partly right after all, just mistaken in the creature. “Do I need to?”  
  
The little demon grinned before it started walking towards the keep, its little arms held out in front of it again as it hummed a ‘ra-ta-ta-ta’ under its breath, clearly nervous despite putting on a brave face.  
  
What an odd little demon.  
  
Steeling himself for what they would find inside, Eskel opened the doors of the ancient keep. Even despite that it felt like a garkain had ripped its claws through his chest and was shredding his heart. Eskel couldn’t breathe as he took in all the bodies. Luci had told him they were the only ones alive here. Perhaps one of the masters had managed to get the young ones out? If so… there was nothing Eskel would gain by going out to look for them now. Vesemir needed his help.  
  
The other witchers had no doubt heard of the attack as well by now and would be returning to the keep. Eskel really wanted Geralt by his side now, to help him make sense of things and for comfort. Hell, he’d even be pleased with Lambert’s grouchy face. He could only be glad that he knew both of them had been away from Kaer Morhen this time of year; so, so lucky that his closest brothers hadn’t been harmed in the attack.  
  
“Hey, sweetcheeks?” There was a light tug on his trousers. “Which way now?”  
  
Looking down, Eskel breathed in, trying _not_ to look at everything around him. He could feel his hands turn clammy and a shiver was running through his body. Kaer Morhen had always been a drafty place…  
  
Eskel was only barely aware of tiny pinches on his leg and a small tugging at his back before startlingly warm, _tiny_ , hands were patting his face. “Hey, sweetcheeks? Come out of it!”  
  
He felt a small sting at the back of his head and looked down to his shoulder, where the little black demon sat, looking as innocent as a cat that got the cream.  
  
Lucy slowly retracted its tail and grasped it between its claws, stroking the tip. “Sorry, it’s got a mind of its own.”  
  
Eskel didn’t believe it, but he started heading towards Vesemir’s bedroom; he’d be able to treat him there as well as any place and the familiar smells would hopefully soothe the old witcher.  
  
Let’s just hope they wouldn’t be in for any nasty surprises when they came there.  
  
_Please, no bodies…  
_  
“Soooo,” Luci crooned, hanging more or less upside down from his shoulder, curling under his chin. “What _is_ your name actually?” Then it grinned widely. “I doubt your name is ‘Esss’ but I can just keep on calling you sweetcheeks?”  
  
“Eskel,” he told the demon, annoyed. “And are you certain you’re a demon? You act more like a cat, even though you can talk.”  
  
Luci climbed up over his shoulder and clung to the back of it, hissing softly. “I’m _not_ a cat!”  
  
Eskel grunted and his focus turned on the stone steps leading up in a spiral to the first floor. Even here there were bodies, and large parts of the wall and the stairs had been damaged; no doubt by explosives or magic.  
  
Vesemir was still in his arms, though the quick thumping of his heart and the light wheezing of his breath reassured Eskel the old witcher was still hanging on.  
  
When they finally entered Vesemir’s rooms Eskel’s body felt five pounds lighter at not finding any bodies, only some overturned tables and a ransacked chest. He could deal with that.  
  
“Here you go, Vesemir. You’re gonna be all right,” Eskel reassured him. His mind was dead-set on making that happen.  
  
Luci jumped off his shoulder and curled up on the bed near Vesemir’s head, its one eye anxiously tracking everything that Eskel did; from removing the old witcher’s clothes to cleaning and bandaging his wounds – with which the little demon even helped – before giving Vesemir some healing potions and covering him with a blanket to let him rest.  
  
“Our potions allow us to heal quicker than a human,” Eskel told Luci, “but it’s no overnight cure. Vesemir will need some food and water too. Think you can watch over him, alert me if he wakes before I’m back?”  
  
Determination stole over all of Luci’s body. “Sure can do.” And carefully, the little demon crawled on top of Vesemir’s right shoulder and curled up in a tight ball, its tail curling around itself. There was a familiarity with how Luci settled itself down that puzzled Eskel.  
  
Weakly, Vesemir stirred, and though he didn’t open his eyes his hand reached up to cup over the tiny demon’s body. Then the witcher sighed quietly and fell still again, relaxing into a healing sleep.  
  
Sighing, Eskel smiled wryly, trusting that the two of them would be all right for a while.  
  
A witcher… with a real, tangible personal demon that, so far, acted nothing like a demon. Eskel had the feeling that Luci wouldn’t be as docile once Vesemir was well again, but the way it had acted so far had either been in concern, or with a bit of mischief.  
  
Like a cat.  
  
That was going to be interesting.  
  
They could all use some light-hearted distraction after all of this.


	2. Vesemir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vesemir finds out he’s acquired a little demon, and Lambert returns to Kaer Morhen; not amused at finding out a demon will now be dogging his mentor’s steps.

Vesemir groaned, clinging to the lightly dizzying but comforting hold of the warm darkness. Just a small twitch of his shoulder made pins and needles appear all over his body, and there was a hot throbbing near his left hip. His limbs felt heavy… too heavy to move.  
  
No… if this was gonna be it he wasn’t ready for it. He was still so very tired…  
  
There was an odd sensation over his right shoulder: a light pinching, and if he didn’t know any better he would think a kitten was kneading his shoulder.  
  
Confused, he forced one eye open and looked down, taking in the mass of black near his face. A soft purring came from the blackness and, whatever it was, it shifted again and the light pinching returned.  
  
_Definitely not a cat!  
_  
More alert now, Vesemir jerked up, unable to figure out what the creature was and _not liking_ it one bit that it was so close to him.  
  
The moment he sat up, the little black ball slid off and he hissed at the feel of both sharp stings from whatever the creature was using to try and hold onto him, and what felt like broken ribs. His left arm and leg wouldn’t move either, and the sharp throbbing in them told him all he needed to know. Looking down, he easily spotted the splint around his left arm; no doubt there was a similar one around his leg.  
  
Turning his head to the floor on his right Vesemir saw the small blob slowly picking itself up from the floor. It turned out to have clawed paws, pointy ears, fangs and, somewhat disconcertingly, just one huge eye.  
  
“Well, that was kind of a harsh wake up call,” the black creature muttered, rubbing its rear before looking up at the bed. “You’re awake, finally!”  
  
Vesemir held himself still and focused on just getting the next breath for a good long while. The creature seemed to interpret his silence as permission to climb back onto the bed, coming to a stand right next to him with its little forelegs held out in the front.  
  
Now Vesemir was no fool, even not when his mind still felt muddied up and woozy from whatever the hell had happened to him, but he knew a demon when he saw one… Seeing as the pain was only just fading to a dull throb he didn’t want to risk slapping the creature away, so instead he gave it a threatening look. “Get away from me, vile demon!”  
  
The black creature crossed its small arms over its chest and put on a hurt expression… “ _Vile_ demon?” Its nose nuzzled its own armpit and Vesemir could hear it sniffing. “Yup, not me, not vile,” the demon continued, focusing its large eye intently on him, looking him up and down accusingly. “Out of the two of us, I know who’s been longer in between bath periods and I can tell you that _I_ am as clean as they come now, washed-baby new. _You_ , on the other hand, have been lying here gathering dust and sweat…” Its rounded nose twitched as it clearly took a sniff of _him_.  
  
Vesemir’s eyes were drawn to the creature’s pointy fangs and, on instinct, he raised his right hand, ready to blast an aard.  
  
The demon held up its tiny claws, palms out and it shook its head as it took a small step backwards. “Whohaoahoa, Vesemir. You do _not_ wanna do that. I’m your friend, remember?”  
  
Vesemir didn’t cast the sign, but neither did he relax his position. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest as the adrenalin spiked, making him more alert, and the remnant of the fogginess finally let go. “I’ve never seen you before. And as far as I know I didn’t call upon any demon to become my _friend_ ,” he told it with absolute certainty.  
  
The little demon held its small arms out to the side, palms up and it bent a little through its knees so it could glare at him from over its rounded nose. “Dude, that hurts. I’ve been caring for you for a week now, you’re _welcome_ …”  
  
Vesemir winced as his brow furrowed. “A _week_?”  
  
The creature nodded.  
  
Narrowing his eyes, Vesemir shook his head slowly, damning the fact that his head started swimming at even that small motion. “You must think I’m crazy if you think for one moment that I believe that…” Letting his eyes shift over the room, his confusion only grew as he recognised his own room, but it was all messed up, with knocked-over furniture, and the door of his cupboard was lying on the floor. Something started niggling at his mind, something had happened…  
  
The demon used his distracted state to scurry all over him, like he was a tree to climb in, and only stopped when it was clinging to his left shoulder, staring up at him intently. “No really, ask Eskel when he gets back,” the creature told him.  
  
“Huh?” Fear gripped him. The sense of unease and the thing niggling at his mind magnified their attentions… “If you’ve done anything to my boy…”  
  
The demon waved its pointy tail in front of his face a few times. “Keep your nightshirt on, man. Calm down and I’ll go and fetch him. I’ve grown pretty fond of sweetcheeks; he can explain the situation.”  
  
_Not good, **not good** ,_ ran through Vesemir’s mind. Without any conscious input he released an aard at the small demon, immediately howling in pain as his own arm got caught in the blast. He fell down on the mattress, breathing heavily and only barely aware of the demon’s flattened body slowly sliding down the rough stone, its tail twitching and jerking while it muttered an ‘ouch’ under its breath.  
  
The moment it hit the mattress, the demon scurried towards the foot end and knelt down near his left leg, shooting him a baleful glare with its large eye. “You were so much friendlier when you were lying under the rubble,” it hissed, crossing its arms, pointy tail twitching in agitation.  
  
The voice…  
  
_Got you some water…  
  
Well if that’s all, I can do that!  
  
Hey, stay with me!  
  
_Vesemir licked his dry lips as he started remembering bits and pieces. He remembered feeling cold, but then there had been tiny touches on his face before a nice heat had encompassed him. He felt his mouth fall open as he tried to make sense of it all.  
  
“You better get used to me, you know,” the black demon carefully placed its clawed hand over Vesemir’s shin and then looked back at him with a determined expression, puffing out its chest with pride. “I’m your personal demon and you’re stuck with me _forever_ and _ever_.”  
  
Groaning, Vesemir closed his eyes and focused on breathing through his nose. “Weirdest dream I’ve ever had…”  
  
“Nuh-uh,” the demon said, “you’re finally wide awake. Oh, I’d better tell sweetcheeks!”  
  
Nope, not believing that for one moment. He _was_ still dreaming. Though if he was, then who was… “Sweetcheeks?”  
  
There was a light jostling as something light scurried up the bed, and then a tiny warm touch was tilting up his chin. The sensation was odd enough that Vesemir gave in and opened his eyes again.  
  
“Eskel, I mean Eskel,” the demon clarified, grabbing onto his chin with both tiny hands.  
  
Eskel… one of his boys. He hadn’t been here though, had he? He couldn’t remember exactly, but it was _bad_ to be at Kaer Morhen right now. “Eskel’s here?”  
  
It wasn’t safe at Kaer Morhen.  
  
_The peasants… the mages…  
_  
Gasping, Vesemir jerked up. “My brothers!” He had to go and help them, there were so many of them!  
  
“No, don’t!”  
  
Pain blossomed all through his body as he came to a jerking stop, and then it nearly overwhelmed him as he crashed into something cold. The stars were pretty though…  
  
A black blob appeared above his face, and those fangs, even upside down, were just too close for comfort. Breathing in harshly, Vesemir tried to twist around, but he couldn’t move. His left side was on fire but even the fire wasn’t enough to burn through whatever was gripping onto him.  
  
_So much blood.  
_  
“I need to help them!” He shouted, reaching out and trying to free himself despite the pain.  
  
**“Eskel!”** The demon shouted with an unexpected loudness. **“Need your help here!”**  
  
There was a frustrated sigh to his right and a moment later there was a small warm touch on his cheek, startled him into silence. He heard a low retreating ‘ra-ta-ta-ta-ta’ and a moment later the thing trapping his legs loosened with a few tugs.  
  
“Personal demon to the rescue again,” the black creature mumbled, carefully grasping a hold of Vesemir’s legs and jumping down from the mattress. Nearly immediately the fiery burning in his left side dulled to an angry throb and Vesemir could _think_ clearly again.  
  
It was all over already. He hadn’t been able to make a difference.  
  
“Sooooo,” the demon crooned, leaning against his right leg nonchalantly, “don’t know if you remember, but from your reactions I’m assuming you don’t, so can’t hurt to reintroduce myself. The name’s Luci, and I’ll be hanging around for quite a long while. Like… _forever_. Can’t shake me, nuh-uh, like mud stuck to a boot.”  
  
Sighing, Vesemir closed his eyes, feeling a strong headache coming on.  
  
“You gotta be kidding me.” That was clearly Lambert’s voice; the youngster sounded angry, even for him. “You left a _demon_ to watch over that old coot? I may hate his guts but even I’m not that heartless!”  
  
“Lambert, I told you, Luci saved his life.” That was Eskel, and he sounded utterly exhausted. “And you heard him just now, he’s on our side.”  
  
“Screaming for help. Excuse me if that doesn’t scream ‘you can trust the demon’ to me! Geralt’s been rubbing off on you. What’s next? You’re gonna allow forktails near the keep, fuck a succubus?” Lambert gritted out angrily, coming closer. By now Vesemir knew the youngster pretty well and even lying on the ground here, harassed by a small demon, he could hear the waver in Lambert’s voice betraying his true emotions.  
  
Luci gave a little jump, its tail pointing straight upwards. It stood frozen there as the door was pushed open, arms held awkwardly away from its body.  
  
Vesemir turned his head, inexplicably glad at seeing Lambert’s angry visage appearing through the doorway.  
  
Lambert took one step into the room before freezing. “What the…? Get away from him!” He shouted, crossing the room in three strides and kicking the little demon, causing Luci to fly through the air. Vesemir could hear a small smack as it no doubt hit one of the other walls.  
  
He actually started feeling sorry for the little thing.  
  
From the corner of his eyes Vesemir saw Eskel entering his bedroom, and the young witcher immediately walked up to Lambert and gripped his elbow. “Stop! I told you: he’s pretty harmless!”  
  
“Ouch… _again_ ,” Luci muttered from somewhere behind him. “You know, I’m only _immortal_ ; doesn’t mean I don’t feel any pain.” The sound of tiny clawed feet scurrying about indicated Luci was coming back to his side, and a moment later Vesemir could see the demon standing near his left shoulder, with its tiny claws resting on its sides. “Just what is it with you witchers today? Kick first, talk later? Sheesh!”  
  
“Why you…” Lambert was pulled back by Eskel, and a good thing too or Luci would be flying through the room again.   
  
Luci clearly had enough of all the manhandling and kicking, because before Lambert could shake himself loose from Eskel’s hold the demon had scurried underneath the blankets still partly wrapped around Vesemir’s legs. “Hey come on, man. Benefit of the doubt, and all that?” Its muffled voice rose from between the sheets.  
  
Lambert actually growled. “Like hell!”  
  
Eskel sighed and stepped in front of his brother, holding on to both of the witcher’s arms. “I told you, Luci’s okay. If he’d wanted to he could’ve stolen Vesemir’s soul a long time ago.”  
  
Vesemir could see the way Lambert’s eyes narrowed with distrust. “In case you didn’t realise, _Eskel_ , it’s _not_ a good thing when a demon attaches itself to a human. Not even when that human is Vesemir!”  
  
Vesemir couldn’t see the little demon, but he could certainly feel how Luci curled up into a little ball, resting on top of his right thigh.  
  
Eskel shook his head. “He’s a mischief maker at most; so far only been guilty of lifting some psilocybe from the lab and smoking one of the best specimens _all in one go_.” The young witcher squinted at the blanket.  
  
Luci uncurled from the little ball it was in and moved up a little until its head peeked from the covers. “Well it _was_ an incredibly good batch,” it defended with a grumble.  
  
Not letting go of his brother’s arms, Eskel raised an eyebrow at the demon. “And you’re still going to get us all some arenaria in return for that.”  
  
Whatever Luci was muttering under its breath, is was too low for even Vesemir to make out.  
  
Vesemir frowned, looking over the two young witchers. “Good to see you two are safe.” A warm relief settled over him.  
  
Eskel started untangling the blanket from around his legs, disturbing Luci, who decided enough was enough and jumped onto the bed, seeking safety behind one of the pillows.  
  
Together with Lambert, Eskel managed to carefully deposit Vesemir back on the bed again, propping some pillows underneath the witcher’s back so he was lying in a half-elevated position.  
  
Lying down on the soft mattress again, Vesemir breathed out a sigh in relief, feeling all his injuries calming down their efforts to scream _PAINPAINPAIN_ at him. That little area just above his left hip had really starting to ache from all the jostling, though; it felt all tingly and shivery and Vesemir just _knew_ the kind of injury that would be revealed if he got rid of his nightshirt and the bandages underneath.  
  
Adjusting the pillow one final time, Eskel crouched down near the bed and looked up at him. “Glad to see you awake finally. How’re you feeling?”  
  
He remembered now. Vesemir swallowed heavily as his mind flicked back to the massacre. He knew the two young ones picked up on his quicker beating heart and he lifted his right hand to his shoulder, trying to still the trembling that had settled in it. At least his left hand was hidden by the blankets…  
  
_They hadn’t had a chance. None of them._  
  
Something large and warm covered his hand, and Vesemir snapped out of it, staring right into Eskel’s eyes. The young witcher was looking at him with worry in his eyes while his thumb stroked small circles over the back of his hand.  
  
Vesemir felt the small demon moving about behind the pillows, and a low hiss near his ear gave him the impression that Luci was looking at Eskel and Lambert from a safe place.  
  
Eskel called it a ‘he’ though, didn’t he? That made Luci’s story a bit more likely already…  
  
Lambert hesitantly walked closer and sat down on the bed right next to his hip. It was hard to read his eyes, but there was definitely concern in them, and the lines around his eyes had softened a bit. “Glad to see you alive, old man,” the young witcher nodded at him and carefully pressed his own hand over Eskel’s and his own before pulling back again, clearly uncomfortable.  
  
Vesemir sighed, feeling some of the tension fleeing his body. He felt exhausted all of a sudden. Everything hurt.  
  
He would handle it though; he was a witcher.  
  
A cold shudder passed through him and he tried to wriggle a bit farther downwards, more under the blankets.  
  
He felt a warm touch on his neck; it could have been Luci’s nose because the demon sniffed before hissing with displeasure. And then there was a tiny patch of incredible warmth over his neck, spreading all over the skin there as the little demon stroked his hand over it.  
  
That was so much better already…  
  
He had trouble keeping his eyes open, finally feeling warm and more or less comfortable again. And all the excitement had really dragged away his energy. He could do with a good nap now.  
  
“Hey boys?” Luci asked softly, keeping up his warm strokes. “Think it’s time for some of his potions again; I can just _smell_ the pain on him…”  
  
Vesemir let out a weak snort: a demon, concerned for a witcher. He sobered at the thought that a _demon_ was showing more kindness to him than his own fellow humans had.  
  
Just what was the world coming to?  
  
Eskel seemed to have come prepared, for he held out a small vial and helped Vesemir drink it all before settling him down more comfortably on the bed, pulling the blankets all the way up to his shoulders. “Sleep, Vesemir.”  
  
“Huh,” Lambert scoffed, “friggin’ demon telling us how to care for our own,” was the last thing Vesemir heard as he drifted off into a drugged sleep.


	3. Lambert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lambert is not letting Luci alone with Vesemir, no way. There’s sniping, there's banter, there's booze… and finally: a little bonding.

Lambert watched as Eskel fiddled around with Vesemir’s blanket for the eight time. Not like the old man was going anywhere. Vesemir was truly out for the count; the contents of the vial Eskel had made him drink would make sure of that.  
  
“He’ll be asleep for a while,” Lambert told him, though not unkindly. Eskel looked like he could use a good sleep himself. Perhaps once he’d taken care of the demon he’d force some of the same stuff down his brother’s throat.  
  
Finally, Eskel stood up from his crouched position and turned around, meeting his eyes. “Gonna prepare us some dinner,” he told him, “wanna help out?”  
  
Lambert crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance, glaring at Eskel and jerking his chin towards the bed. “I’m not leaving Vesemir here with that demon!” He growled out, watching said-demon climb over his mentor’s body to reach the other side of the bed, and then it started scratching the air, aiming in his direction. Its freaky large eye was narrowed to barely a sliver and the creature’s head was tilted up, giving him a good display of its unnatural black fangs.  
  
His hand reached for the sword still strapped to his back and the demon tilted its head before grinning mischievously.  
  
“So, sweetcheeks, who’s this?” The demon asked, keeping its eye focused warily on Lambert.  
  
_Sweetcheeks?  
_  
Eskel sighed the same sigh he did when he and Geralt were teasing him about Lil’ Bleater. His brother shook his head and pointed towards the black little demon. “Lambert, meet Luci.” Then he pointed towards Lambert. “Luci, this here is Lambert, grouch of Kaer Morhen.”  
  
Lambert snorted and flicked him the finger, deciding to leave his sword be, for now. “At least I’m not the _idiot_ of Kaer Morhen.”  
  
Eskel let his arms fall away to his sides, palms raised upwards in supplication. “How many times do I have to tell you?”  
  
Lambert waved him off. “Yeah yeah: benign demon. You go on keep believing that while you make dinner. In the meanwhile I’m just gonna find a way to exorcise it.”  
  
The little demon shook its head and pointed back towards the sleeping Vesemir. “Nuh-uh. You _can’t_. Vesemir is stuck with me forever after he-” The demon stilled and put its tiny claws over its mouth.  
  
_Too late._ Lambert took a step towards the bed and sneered at the creature. “After he _what_?” He smiled nastily; there was no such thing as a demon that couldn’t be exorcised.  
  
Eskel turned around, a curious look on his face.  
  
Out of nowhere the demon retrieved a rolled up cigarette and before Lambert knew what had happened the pointy end of the demon’s tail was on fire and being used to light the fag. The smell coming off of it was familiar, but instead of soothing him it made Lambert’s hair stand on edge.  
  
Seeing him look, the demon held out the fag. “Wanna try some? It’s Kaer Morhen brand.”  
  
Eskel instead was the one that walked up to the black creature and took the burning stick from him, taking a drag himself before offering it to Lambert. “It’s good,” he informed him.  
  
Lambert gritted his teeth and shook his head. “No _thanks_.” Oh, he could definitely use something to relax right now, but anything that demon had its little claws on in creating was a definite no-go.  
  
“Ah, I see what kinda man you are,” the demon nodded and hopped off the bed, scurrying towards the large open chest next to the bed. It carefully climbed over one of the sides and then there was a soft clinking of glass as the creature started rummaging for something.  
  
Curious, Lambert approached the chest, trying to see what the demon was up to. From the number of flasks and vials and the notorious lack of dust on most of them Lambert just _knew_ that Eskel had been busy brewing these fresh batches of what looked to be swallow, tawny owl, white raffard and white gull. Looked like the man had brewed for a dozen witchers.  
  
“A-hah, got ya!” The little demon proudly held up a flask of white gull nearly as large as itself and transferred it to its tail before jumping up and climbing out of the chest; then it set down its prize on the floor just a step away from Lambert’s foot. “Perhaps this’ll soften up your mood, sourpuss,” the demon said before hurriedly retreating to a safer distance. “It’s exquisite, I should know: I helped Eskel make it.”  
  
Eskel snorted out an aborted laugh and, at his curious glance, explained. “He downed three flasks’ worth before I could stop him. Claimed he was ‘taste testing’.”  
  
The demon rubbed its belly, and a pleased gleam shone in its eye. It held out its clawed hand then and made a grabby motion at Eskel. “Share the fun, sweetcheeks.”  
  
Eskel crouched down and waved the fag in front of the demon, just out of reach of those small arms and moving quickly to avoid its prehensile tail. “Nope. You were just gonna tell us what Vesemir did to end up with you, weren’t you?”  
  
“Blackmail,” the demon murmured, taking the opportunity to sink its claws in Eskel’s trousers and from there on making its way up his brother’s arm, reaching for the fag. Eskel quickly took it in his other hand just before the demon could reach it, ending with the creature hanging upside down from his wrist, staring longingly at its lost treasure. “You know, under usual circumstances I would’ve liked your deviousness.” Its rear wiggled and before either witcher had a clue the demon jumped to Eskel’s other hand, snatching the still burning stick. Then it hurried off and jumped on the night stand, taking a quick drag as it crossed one leg over the other. “As it is, I can currently only appreciate your effort in an abstract way.”  
  
Lambert had enough of it and with just two steps he was near enough to poke the demon in its belly, snatching away its precious fag. “Spill it, demon. Information first, psilocybe after.”  
  
Perhaps he shouldn’t have done that, Lambert realised when the creature whacked him with its tail before standing up and glaring at him, hissing and waving its claws. The room was becoming hotter and hotter, though the fire in the grate was still burning at the same strength, and Lambert felt a shiver of discomfort running through his body. He cast quen. His fingers itched to pull his sword, but the demon was clearly fast; it would be on top of Vesemir before he could whack it back with his silver sword.  
  
Fury made his hands shake as he threw the fag at the creature, looking accusingly at Eskel. “Told you: you _can’t_ trust a demon.”  
  
Eskel cast a worried look at Vesemir and glanced back at the open door, clearly weighing some sort of dilemma in his mind. He hadn’t cast a quen though, so he was clearly not worried. “Luci!” he growled warningly, using a tone Lambert was very familiar with.  
  
Vesemir shifted on the bed and a frown pinched his brow; it couldn’t be his injuries though, the old witcher was drugged to the gills…  
  
The demon stilled and groaned with obvious frustration. “Fine! Fine fine fine _fine_!” The heat disappeared, leaving the room a whole lot colder than Lambert remembered. With one long inhale the creature finished the psilocybe cig and threw the stump to the floor. It hunched a little in displeasure, but the gaze of its lone eye softened when it looked at Vesemir. The demon jumped down, laying a tiny claw on the witcher’s shoulder. “Fine,” it repeated softer, “but neither of you ever tell him what I’m gonna tell you, you hear me? _Ever._ ”  
  
Lambert grunted his affirmation, but it would all depend on the creature’s answer. And even then he didn’t feel obligated to keep his word to one belonging to demon-kind. But he nodded and played along. “Sure, just between us.”  
  
Seeing Eskel nod as well, the demon sighed and looked towards them. “All right. So… we could feel something was up here, you know, all of us down in hell,” the demon started. “Soul after soul started appearing, moaning and screaming as they were processed through our system.” It let out a wicked little laugh and for a moment the room felt hotter. “Time flows differently down below I’ve noticed, but when the deluge of souls just stopped there was this… this _hollowness_ ringing through the pits and then I was being pulled through the gates by some force and I heard Asmodeus yelling not to screw it up. The next thing I know I’m standing next to a pile of rubble, staring straight into a pair of cat eyes and it just _clicked_ and here we are.” The demon actually did a small curtsey.  
  
Lambert felt an eyebrow rising, having trouble believing there was an actual place called hell and trying to imagine the place from just the few titbits the demon before him now revealed. Just what did it mean? _Processing through their system?_ “That still doesn’t explain what Vesemir did to end up with you.”  
  
The demon stroked its tiny claw over Vesemir’s shoulder and an actual, honest _fond_ look settled on its face. “I was pulled away from hell by his desire to make a deal. Every demon’s got a compatible human out here, and he is _mine_ , and he offered me _anything_ in return for…”  
  
“Yes?” Eskel asked quietly, encouraging.  
  
“Not dying alone,” the demon finished in a whisper. One large eye stared at Lambert. “I kinda… sorta… tweaked the rules before accepting his deal? Took some of his worst memories and tried my best to keep him alive until help would arrive.”  
  
Typical demon, twisting deals to suit their purpose.  
  
Eskel cocked his head in confusion. “So what did you get in return?”  
  
The little demon smacked its lips. “The memories tasted quite nice…”  
  
Eating memories. Sure. Well, Lambert was pretty sure Vesemir wasn’t going to be missing any of _those_ particular ones. “That wasn’t all you got, though, was it?”  
  
The demon stepped a little higher, settling itself in the crook of Vesemir’s neck. It actually looked a bit abashed; its shoulders sagged as it let out a sigh and waved its claws helplessly. “And I get to spend time here on earth, away from hell.”  
  
_“And?”_ Lambert prodded.  
  
The demon shook its head. “And that’s it. Hell’s full of bastards, you know. I’m sick and tired of it.”  
  
“Huh,” Eskel said, looking a bit puzzled.  
  
The demon nodded. “Yup… that’s the truth. So I’m sticking around and keeping him alive for as long as I can.”  
  
Eskel let out a soft whistle. “Gonna be a tough job.”  
  
“No witcher’s ever died in their beds,” Lambert chimed in.  
  
The creature’s ears perked up and it got an interested and hopeful look on its round face as it pointed towards Vesemir. “So he’s going to be all right?”  
  
Lambert rolled his eyes. “No witcher’s ever died in their beds from _old age_ ,” he clarified.  
  
“We don’t even know how old a witcher _could_ get,” Eskel said, “Vesemir’s already well over two hundred years and he’s still going strong.”  
  
A determined look appeared in the demon’s eye and the creature stretched upwards, growing as tall as it could. “I’m gonna change that bed thing,” it told them, determined.  
  
Demon protecting a witcher. This, Lambert just had to see.   
  
“Feel free to try,” Eskel said, a wistful smile twitching at his lips.  
  
Well, that was all nice and all, but Lambert couldn’t understand one thing. “So why don’t you want him to know?” He nodded towards the bed.  
  
The demon sighed. “He and I made a deal, but… I purposefully misinterpreted his actual wish. In my defence, he offered me _anything_ I wished, and I wished him to _live_ so that I could stay topside.” Its large eye looked at first Eskel, then Lambert. “You saw the bodies out there; it just felt wrong to allow him to give up after all that. A deal’s a deal, though; I’m totally gonna be there for him when he dies, but I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure that day is as far into the future as possible.”  
  
Eskel swallowed heavily and closed his eyes, letting out a strong breath through his nose. “I won’t tell,” he promised the little demon, sounding a bit raspy. Then he opened his eyes and walked over towards Lambert, reaching for his shoulder and clasping it in a tight grip. “Stay here if you like. I’ll be in the kitchen, just… _don’t_ … kill each other, all right? And don’t antagonise him,” he threw in for good measure, pointing at the little demon.  
  
“No killing or unnecessarily antagonising the sourpuss, got it,” the demon replied in a lighter tone, throwing Eskel a salute.  
  
“A truce… for now.” Lambert agreed.  
  
“Good.” Eskel shook his head as he walked out the door. He must’ve been halfway down the stairs when Lambert heard his voice again. “I meant it, Lambert: don’t antagonise Luci. He’s good folk.”  
  
Feeling his hackles rise, Lambert walked the few steps towards the flask of white gull and picked it up. His mind was screaming ‘demon’s brew’ at him, but Eskel told him he’d been the one to brew it and Eskel’s potions were just so damned _good_. And the demon had offered it to him as a gesture of good will…  
  
The exorcism could wait for a bit, Lambert decided, mulling on how frazzled and worn-out Eskel looked. He wanted to believe the story the demon had told them, but he’d been betrayed just one time too often and trust didn’t come easy to him anymore.  
  
“Could use a drink,” he muttered to himself, uncorking the flask. Some of the heaviness that had slipped into the room disappeared after the first sip and Lambert took in a deep breath, soothed by the familiar smells. Even though he resented Vesemir for what he had done there was this niggling feeling inside his chest at seeing the old witcher in such a state, and he wanted it gone so he could go back to fully hating the man again.  
  
“Knew it!” The demon called out before climbing back into the open potions’ chest, retrieving a small bottle from it. “Don’t remember what Eskel called it, but it was one of the older bottles Vesemir crafted. Found out that if you mix this one with the one you’re holding… Pfeweee, you gotta try it, just saying. Strong as hell, and I would know…” The creature used its tail to hold the bottle up as high as it could, chanting quietly. “Do it, do it do it _do it_! You won’t regret it.”  
  
Frowning, Lambert took the offered bottle, shuddering as part of the demon’s tail touched him in the handover. He recognised this bottle and, releasing the cork, mentally tried to add the ingredients together to figure out if he’d need white honey after this. Coming to the conclusion that none of these ingredients would combine into something that would kill him, he upended the vial into his flask of white gull and took a large gulp after mixing it around for a bit.  
  
The world slowly started spinning and there was a warm tingling inside of him, replacing the annoying niggle. He felt all loose and warm and floaty. He snorted, sitting down on the floor near Vesemir’s bed.  
  
“’s good stuff,” he told the creature, no, _Luci_ , he decided. Creature showing him how to mix drinks deserved to be called by its, _his_ , name. And Eskel definitely had to taste some of this stuff; loosen him up a little!  
  
Later… first he’d cajole his brother into taking some off the stuff they’d given Vesemir so Eskel could _finally_ get some of the sleep he so desperately needed.  
  
Lambert had a suspicion he’d be taking the stuff in a few days as well, when the ghosts became too much.  
  
“Told ya’,” Luci said with a smirk, drawing Lambert away from his gloomy thoughts. The little demon was languidly stroking Vesemir’s shoulder, as though he was petting a giant cat.  
  
“You know we use white gull as a painkiller, right?” Lambert asked, wondering just how much Eskel had brewed. “And as base for potions…”  
  
“Oh yeah, I know… _now_ …” Luci confirmed, pointy ears turning downwards in a sulk. “Eskel’s been making me go out for arenaria ever since I helped him brew the latest batch, and he’s been hiding the cherry cordial.”  
  
“Well yeah,” Lambert tilted his head towards the little demon and took another swallow of Luci’s cocktail. “Need that and two other alcoholic brews to create white gull. Can’t exactly go…” A stinging tightness gripped his chest and he fell silent, swallowing heavily as he came to a painful realisation. “Can’t exactly go into the nearest town and acquire some new bottles,” he finished quietly. He wouldn’t ever trust the peasants still living nearby again, not ever. And screw them and their contracts for all generations to come.  
  
It would be a bit more of a hassle, but there were other methods of brewing white gull; plenty of recipes for excellent quality bases, and vitriol- and rebis-containing ingredients were abundant in the area. Arenaria was the hardest one though…  
  
“Hey, sourpuss!”  
  
Something smacked him in the face and Lambert saw a pointy tail retreating to curl up around an innocent looking demon.  
  
“Sorry,” Luci said, “it’s got a mind of its own.”  
  
Lambert’s brow furrowed. “Liar.”  
  
“Shh shh, shut up and drink. Need to drown your gloomy thoughts, remember?” Luci’s tail flicked the bottom of the flask.  
  
Lambert took another sip, looking outside at the rainy weather. The world was starting to spin at just the right speed to still be pleasant, but a hollow ache had started up in his chest.  
  
Sighing, Lambert looked at the little demon. “Gonna throw out some nets later today, see if the fish are stupid enough to swim into them.” He really wanted Eskel to make some fish soup for Vesemir; something easy on a healing body, but filling, yet he dreaded going outside at the same time. It seemed like Eskel had started taking care of their fallen brethren and their attackers, but Eskel was just a lone witcher and there were _so many_ …  
  
Tomorrow. He’d help Eskel tomorrow. Not now, he _couldn’t_ …   
  
He raised the flask to his lips again and took a large gulp.  
  
That was better.  
  
“Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta,” Luci muttered as he walked over the bed, his little arms held out away from his body. “If you’ve got some peanut butter lying around you can always use a rod? I just happen to know fish are suckers for peanut butter. You’d reel those bastards in, easy-peasy.” The little demon hugged the tip of his tail closely to his chest, hiding the pointy end from Lambert’s view.  
  
“Takes too long,” Lambert said, not in the mood to spend hours baiting a hook and catching fish one by one. Swirling the flask around he guessed that there was less than half of the cocktail left.  
  
“If time’s an issue,” Luci tapped his chin, “bombs create this amazing destruction, you know? Throw one in the water and the fish just… float up.”  
  
Now Lambert was intrigued. “Fish… with bombs?”  
  
“I’ve only seen Eskel and Vesemir use signs, though.” Luci winced and absentmindedly rubbed his rear. “And you’ve got your swords, obviously.” The little demon tilted his head. “I’ve seen the lab downstairs, smelled some familiar powders. You witchers ever make bombs?”  
  
“Oh, _Lucille_ …” A grin broke out over Lambert’s face; bombs were his biggest hobby, after all. He would later blame the warm and lazy feeling running through his body for making him reach up to the little demon and pull him to the edge of the bed, bringing their faces together so he could convey just how _serious_ he was about this. “They don’t call me the bombshell of Kaer Morhen for nothing…”  
  
Luci wriggled loose and tilted his head up at him, and that was definitely amusement gleaming in his still-freaky large eye. “Bombshell, huh?” The demon crooned, wrapping his tail around the flask containing Lambert’s new favourite drink and taking a shot for himself, handing the bottle back with a grin. “Lambert, I think you and I are going to become the _best_ of friends…”


	4. Geralt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt arrives at Kaer Morhen one month after the attack and discovers for himself just how much has changed.

Geralt pulled on Roach’ reins, calling the mare to a gentle halt; her ears twitched and pressed flat as she skittered in place, her nostrils flaring.  
  
Looking away from his staring contest with the empty eye sockets of a rotting skull, Geralt got off of Roach’ back and grasped her bridle strap. “I know, Roach,” he tried to soothe her, slowly guiding her across the drawbridge, understanding her fright.  
  
The moat was filled to the brim with corpses half in the process of decomposing.  
  
_‘And this Kaer Morhen where these villains nest and practice foul rituals must be wiped off the face of the earth, and all evil traces of it need be treated with salt and saltpetre to complete the deed.’  
  
_Geralt had been travelling the path; steadily making his way south and keeping an ear out for any interesting contracts, screening the noticeboards of every village he entered. And then one day, just a few weeks ago, he’d stumbled upon something completely different.  
  
_Monstrum.  
_  
He’d hurried home as fast as he could after reading that pamphlet.  
  
No matter how often he blinked, the sight before him refused to change and Geralt just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. How had he not heard anything of this before? Sure, witchers got little respect and were often treated with disdain and mistrust, but this…  
  
Roach whinnied and bumped her head against his shoulder, and Geralt realised he’d let go of her bridle. “Come,” he told her, dreading to find out just what he would find inside.  
  
It felt… _odd_. Surreal. Like those dreams where you were underwater, trying to swim, but the water was like molasses and you ended up going nowhere.  
  
Everywhere he looked there were signs of a battle fought and lost. The outer wall was missing huge chunks, and inside the yard the scorch patterns on the ground and crumbling walls told a clear tale of volatile explosions. Dark patches marked large areas of the inner court, and a faded coppery smell wafted up towards him when the wind picked up, carrying with it newer traces of fatty ash and burnt blood.  
  
Letting go of Roach, Geralt was only vaguely aware of his mare heading towards the stalls on her own, letting out a soft whinny before falling silent. By rote, he went towards her and settled her in her stall; removing her gear and making sure she had water and oats before he turned around.  
  
His feet carried him slowly up the many stairs leading towards the entrance of the great hall, and he _felt_ like he was having one of those dreams again.  
  
There was a painful tugging in his chest and he had to stop for a moment so he could focus on just _breathing_.  
  
_Vesemir.  
_  
He blinked and kept his eyes closed for several heartbeats, focusing on the air passing through his nose while trying to ignore the smells.  
  
Balling his fists, he pushed down the sense of horror trying to drag him down and continued his way up. There was someone around here, someone _living_ and _breathing_ , of that he was completely sure, yet Geralt refused to speculate on who he would or would not find still among the living.  
  
Pushing open the heavy doors, Geralt steeled himself for what he would find, and then walked inside. Immediately, his eyes roved all over the place. Even here, inside the keep, the walls and floor were damaged, but there was a warm glow a little farther away.  
  
Someone had lit a fire.  
  
“Geralt?” A familiar voice asked.  
  
Turning to the left, he spotted Eskel coming out of the kitchen and a small feeling of relief fluttered in his chest. _Safe_.  
  
And then Eskel was right in front of him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “Good to see you, wolf.”  
  
Geralt returned the hug, clapping his brother on the back as he burrowed his nose in the crook of Eskel’s neck, taking a deep breath and immediately comforted by the familiar smell. “Eskel…”  
  
“Come, let me fill you in,” Eskel said, laying a hand on his cheek to get him to look up before nodding his head towards the kitchen. “I’m making some mulled wine; you look like you could use some.”  
  
Nodding silently, Geralt started following him. It wasn’t until he sat down on the bench in the kitchen that he dared to ask. “Who else?”  
  
Sighing, Eskel shook his head and spooned some of the wine into a large mug, pressing it into his hands. “Vesemir and Lambert.” He joined him on the bench, holding his own drink and staring at it. “Vesemir told me that none of them saw the attack coming. They spared no one, not even the boys that hadn’t been put on the Grasses yet.” His eyes turned haunted. Eskel took a large swallow of his wine and ducked his head; a pinched look on his face. “Of all the people that had been at the keep, Vesemir’s the only one who survived.”  
  
Geralt cradled his mug, watching the steam rise off the wine.  
  
“From the witchers that had been out on the path, only you, me and Lambert are accounted for. Berengar should still be out there, as well as a few others… I don’t know how many they are, though. I lost count…”  
  
Geralt took a sip of his drink. “Where’s Vesemir?”  
  
Eskel jerked his head. “Asleep in his room, last I checked.” His brother looked weary as he met his gaze. “He's healing, but it’s going slow, even with our potions. Broken bones, stab wound from a pitchfork… he was trapped under rubble for nearly two weeks. That’s about when I found him,” he gritted out, looking away.  
  
Laying his hand over Eskel’s shoulder, Geralt ducked his head, trying to catch Eskel’s eyes again. “Hey… how are you doing in all this?”  
  
“Honestly? Not good, wolf, but could be a lot worse…” Eskel looked back at him, and he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something else, but then the witcher flagged and shook his head.  
  
Geralt nodded thoughtfully, mulling over the fact that Eskel had been the one to have stumbled upon the aftermath of the attack, taking care of all the bodies together with Lambert, no doubt. That was bound to have left its mark. “If you want to talk…” he offered, giving Eskel’s shoulder a light squeeze before letting his hand drop away.  
  
“Thanks.” Eskel snorted and a wry smile pulled at his lips. “Lambert's been trying to get me drunk off my ass on that new cocktail he's discovered, and if I so much as even yawn nowadays he gets this gleam in his eyes that makes me feel like he’s gonna drug my food.” He shook his head and raised his mug to his lips.  
  
Geralt understood where Lambert was coming from. “How is he?”  
  
An odd look appeared on Eskel’s face and he looked over towards the large fire. “He’s acting all tough, but this thing scared him, Geralt. He arrived only a few days after me…”  
  
So Geralt’s suspicion had been right: Lambert had been helping Eskel with the bodies. “Know where he is right now?”  
  
Shrugging, Eskel stood up and headed towards the stove, picking up a spoon and giving the contents of a large pot a stir. “Perhaps the lab? He’s been down there a few times over the last few weeks.”  
  
All right. After he’d checked up on Vesemir the lab was the first place he was going to look for the young witcher.  
  
“What’re you making?” Geralt pointed towards the pot.  
  
Eskel snorted. “Cream-poached bass. Lambert’s been fishing lately and I’m sick of fish soup and the usual dishes, so I decided to start experimenting with whatever was still in the larder.”  
  
Geralt frowned, perplexed. “I thought he hated fishing?”  
  
Eskel shrugged. “I don’t know, man. I’m just glad he’s been helping out, so I don’t ask questions. You know how he is.”  
  
Yeah. Lambert could be difficult even on his best days; if he was being cooperative it was best to let him be.  
  
Finishing the last of his mulled wine, Geralt watched as Eskel distractedly stirred the pot. “Eskel, join me upstairs?” He didn’t like the thought of his brother being all alone in the kitchen, not now when he’d just caused his demons to be revived.  
  
Eskel’s brow twitched, but he raised his hand and snapped his fingers, and a breath later the fire beneath the pot spluttered out. “Sure, wolf,” he agreed.  
  
When they entered Vesemir’s room Geralt halted, taking in the signs of trespass, though the room had been tidied up since. There was a sweet and earthy scent lingering in the air.  
  
Vesemir was asleep in the bed, and next to it a pair of crutches were propped up against the nightstand. Eskel had told him Vesemir’s injuries had been bad before, but it was still strange seeing such a strong witcher bedridden for what must be near a month after sustaining his injuries.  
  
He thanked whatever deity that would listen that he hadn’t lost Vesemir as well in all of this. And that Eskel and Lambert hadn’t been at the keep when the attack had occurred.  
  
Geralt quietly walked up to the bed, cocking his head as he spotted what looked to be a black kitten curled up into a tight little ball right on top of his surprise-father’s shoulder, purring softly. It was actually pretty weird now that he thought about it; they’d never had cats in the keep, not for pets, not even for mousing. The animals just didn’t like witchers.  
  
Eskel was looking at the black kitten as well, and a fond look appeared on his face as he sat himself down in one of the chairs next to the bed. “That’s Luci,” he told him, and again it seemed like he wanted to say more, but refrained himself at the last moment.  
  
Taking the other chair, Geralt dragged it just a bit closer to the bed before he sat down in it. He was intrigued by the little kitten, which was hairless, he now realised; like one of those ‘cute ugly’ ones that the nobles favoured.  
  
Reaching over, he carefully ran his fingers down Luci’s back, which felt soft as silk, and a grin broke out over his face as the purring noise got just a tiny bit louder. The depth of black and the way the little creature was curled up made it difficult to see its features, but Geralt could distinguish its tiny pointed ears, which twitched as he stroked the kitten again.  
  
Beside him, Eskel coughed, sounding like he was hacking up a lung in the process. When he was finally done choking he waved a hand in the air. “Geralt, I uh… don’t think that petting him is a good idea. Luci’s a… he’s a _demon_.”  
  
Shrugging, Geralt continued petting the kitten, and there was just something in his chest that felt a bit lighter as he did. “He’s just a little kitten, Eskel. Don’t you hear him? Clearly purring, I know that’s content…” It felt nice, doing this, and the purring sounded really soothing.  
  
“Uh, Geralt?” And there was something in the way Eskel said it that told him his brother was smirking at him.  
  
“Hmm?” Geralt hummed, deciding that Luci was one of those rare cats whose sense of magic was broken.  
  
“That wasn’t a figure of speech, wolf,” Eskel said.  
  
“What?” His hand stilled as he looked back at Eskel.  
  
The purring stopped. The little creature shifted and Geralt could now see one large eye, that _definitely_ didn’t belong to a cat, blink up at him. The creature stretched, raising its little rump high in the air and showing off its arrow-pointed tail as its thin forelegs spread out, revealing three tiny clawed toes on each paw. And those were _black_ fangs, Geralt noticed when he finally got a better look at Luci’s face.  
  
A literal demon then. All right.  
  
But his medallion didn’t vibrate, so what did that mean?  
  
His fingers twitched all of a sudden, but Geralt suppressed the urge to cast a sign for several reasons, the foremost being that Eskel was still sitting calmly beside him, unfazed by the demon perched on top of their beloved mentor.  
  
Luci let himself slip from Vesemir’s shoulder and walked towards the edge of the bed, arms stretched in front of him. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” he told him, tilting his head up and down in a curious manner. “Appreciate you resisting the urge to blast me, though.”  
  
“Luci’s the one that kept Vesemir alive until I could pull him from the rubble,” Eskel informed him, his voice wavering.  
  
“Luci…” Geralt muttered, feeling more puzzled than alerted, settling back in his chair. “I’m Geralt,” he introduced himself. “Thank you for saving him. Vesemir is very dear to me, to us.”  
  
“He’s my human,” Luci told him, “I’ll do _anything_ in my power to make sure he dies in bed.”  
  
Worried, Geralt looked to Eskel.  
  
“Of old age,” Eskel added, and wasn’t that a relief to hear. “We’ve had some conversations on the topic.”  
  
Feeling his heart settle back in his chest, Geralt leaned forward and focused his hearing. He didn’t hear Luci’s heartbeat, most likely due to his demonic origins, but Vesemir’s heart was beating slow and steady. He reached out and lay his hand on Vesemir’s shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief at the tangible proof of his mentor being alive. “Hey Vesemir,” he said quietly, “I’m home…”  
  
Usually Vesemir was a light sleeper, but the witcher didn’t even so much as twitch at his words.  
  
Eskel frowned, and Geralt noticed him scenting the room. “Luci?”  
  
Luci held up his tiny claws. “He’s _fine_. Awoke some time ago. He was lucid, did his thing,” the little demon nodded at the screened off section of the room, “we did a round of dice, shared a roll and then he fell back asleep.”  
  
“Roll?” Eskel asked.  
  
“KM gigglebud,” the little demon clarified, looking all proud.  
  
Geralt had no idea what that was.  
  
Eskel dragged a palm over his face and rolled his eyes, starting to look a bit more frazzled.  
  
“Oh, but you like that stuff, sweetcheeks. And at least it doesn’t make his veins turn all black _._ ” Luci gave Eskel the stink eye and pointed accusingly towards Vesemir.  
  
“White raffard and swallow,” Eskel explained to Geralt, starting a staring match with the demon.  
  
Geralt nodded; he was familiar with the effects of those particular potions. The effect they had on witchers were one of the reasons that people called them freaks and shunned them, but the witchers needed the edge the potions gave them if they were dealing with monsters or life-threatening injuries.  
  
“Careful if you play dice with him, Geralt,” Eskel told him, still looking Luci in the eye. “He cheats.”  
  
“I do not!” The little demon shifted his gaze to Geralt and put his tiny claws on his hips. “The sixes just _love_ me.”  
  
_“Yo Eskel, what did you do with the fish I caught you, you rat bastard!”_ Geralt heard Lambert’s voice echoing upwards.  
  
Eskel was out of the chair in an instant. “Need to stop him before he throws away our dinner. You gonna be all right till I’ve set him straight?”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Geralt waved him away, feeling more like himself with all the antics going on.  
  
“Call if you need me, wolf.” Eskel gave his shoulder a light squeeze before heading out the door.  
  
“So,” Geralt started, bending over so that he was at the same eye level as Luci, “you’re a demon. Gonna haunt Kaer Morhen from now on? Looked pretty comfortable there…” he nodded towards the sleeping witcher.  
  
Luci leaned back against Vesemir. “Nah… not Kaer Morhen.” He reached behind himself and patted Vesemir’s arm. “I’ll just be following this one around.”  
  
“Because you need to do his bidding?” Geralt asked. “He’s the one that summoned you.” He was certain of that; demons didn’t just show up and Luci had been with Vesemir before Eskel had returned home.  
  
“Uh, no.” Luci shook his head. “Summoned me, yes. Doing his bidding, hell no. But I’m not leaving, not ever; nope. I’ve got so many _great_ ideas about what we could do once he’s back on his feet again! Or even right now! Uh, when he’s awake…” the demon amended, sheepishly looking back at Vesemir.  
  
Geralt felt his eyebrows trying to crawl to the back of his head. “Like what?”  
  
The little demon twirled his little claw and then he was holding what looked like a cigarette, but it smelt sweeter, earthier… “Here’s one; Vesemir likes them well enough.” His tail came up and suddenly its pointy tip was aflame. Luci lit the fag and took in a large draw, his eye closing in obvious pleasure. “Want some? It’s good for soothing nerves _and_ works as a painkiller. No brain, no pain.”  
  
Taking a breath, Geralt shook his head. He didn’t want to end up with stinging eyes and a burning throat while his body tried to expel his lungs. “No thanks, so that’s the gigglebud you mentioned?”  
  
“Yu-p,” Luci said, “found some 'shrooms down in the lab. You witchers got all kinds of interesting stuff…”  
  
That was actually a sobering thought. “Not a lot’a witchers anymore,” he muttered and closed his eyes, trying to imagine how things would be from now on at Kaer Morhen and just not seeing it. It was all just a blank.  
  
The sound of a soft muttered ‘ra-ta-ta-ta’ preceded a small tap against his knee. Geralt opened his eyes to see Luci standing on his tiptoes, his tail lifted as high as he could, offering him the flask he was holding with it. It looked like one of the ones they usually stored white gull in.  
  
“You look like you could use some,” the little demon told him, nudging the alcohol into Geralt’s hand.  
  
“I really shouldn’t,” Geralt said, not taking the flask. Perhaps later, when Eskel and Lambert had arrived and they’d all had some food.  
  
“Times when you really shouldn’t, are exactly when you really should,” Luci told him sagely, pouring the alcohol into two cups he’d miraculously procured from out of nowhere and handing him one.  
  
“A witcher drinking with a demon.” Geralt shook his head, accepting the cup. “What is this stuff anyways?” It didn’t smell like it contained only white gull; there was something else mixed in it.  
  
“It’s a mixture of that bird and some of that yellow stuff Vesemir kept in his chest. Lambert and Eskel _love_ the stuff,” Luci drawled, clinking their cups together. “To drinking buddies.”  
  
“I can tell you're gonna be a bad influence.” Geralt smiled wryly and drained the cup in one go, seeing Luci copy him. The alcohol burnt down his throat and it hit him hard, but that’s what he got for drinking on an empty stomach. Immediately he felt a whole lot warmer and his tongue and the tips of his fingers felt all tingly.  
  
“I'm not a bad influence, I'm an enabler.” Luci’s tail twitched, and then he was refilling their empty cups. “Drink up, pretty boy.”  
  
Geralt couldn’t say for sure how much time had passed before Eskel returned with Lambert in tow, nor could he remember how he had ended up sitting on the floor next to Vesemir’s bed; a hand cupped over the little ball of purring demon lying curled up in his lap.  
  
Those small vibrations were so soothing…  
  
“Eskel?” Lambert grabbed onto Eskel’s arm, pointing in his direction.  
  
Eskel just patted him on the arm. “Oh, he knows.” Walking towards them, the witcher picked up the near-empty flask and took a swig himself before handing it over to Lambert; joining him on the floor and pressing up on his right side.  
  
Geralt felt a warm fondness settle in his chest as Lambert joined them as well, leaning against his left side and pressing his leg up against his own. “Glad you’re here, Geralt,” Lambert said softly, for once sounding just tired instead of angry.  
  
Wrapping his free hand around Lambert’s neck, Geralt pulled on it and gently bumped their foreheads.  
  
Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert… Geralt had no idea how many wolf witchers were still out on the path, but at least the four of them were still together.  
  
Closing his eyes, Geralt decided that he just wanted to stay like this for a while: reassuring himself that his brothers were alive and listening to Vesemir’s heart as his mentor slept.  
  
The familiar scents around him and the rumbling of Luci’s purring felt soothing, and finally after weeks of anxious travelling he felt like he could rest…  
  
He could feel Lambert shifting against him. “He’s not a friggin’ cat, man! What the hell happened here?” He kept his voice quiet though, despite his obvious disbelief.  
  
“Luci happened,” Eskel told him, as though it should have been obvious. “You can hold it over them when they both are sober again. Being pet like that must be a demon’s equivalent of waking up in naught but his knickers… if he normally would wear any clothes, that is.”  
  
“Oh, I did not need that thought,” Lambert hissed softly.  
  
“Well, it’s not like he’s got genitalia,” Eskel egged him on. “Incubus-fluid, didn’t he say that?”  
  
Listening to their bantering, Geralt sighed and let himself drift off to sleep.  
  
**The end**

**Author's Note:**

> Luci is from the series Disenchantment and I totally adore this sweet little demon.  
> In this story it's stressful times for all of them, so Luci’s not yet up to his usual tricks. Right now it's them getting through this difficult time, but after that it really sinks in with them that Vesemir's got a little personified demon who's following him around and - definitely – being an oh so good influence on the other witchers… >:)
> 
> For chp4 I actually used quite some references being used in Disenchantment. If you’re familiar with the show, you’ll recognise them I think. >:) They were just too good to pass up.
> 
> And now the story is really and truly complete this time. Hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
